#michael Langdon x reader angel

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[fear-is-truth]

INTERVIEW WITH THE ANTICHRIST

── michael langdon x gn! reader. || wc: 980

The chamber was eerily silent, illuminated only by the flickering candles and the warm glow of the fireplace. You were seated in a plush armchair, stiff and cold beneath your fingers, your back pressed tight against the cushions.

The air was thin, as if it was being slowly siphoned away. You felt small, trapped. Like an insect in a glass jar. Langdon had only arrived at the outpost a day ago, but already, you could feel the shift in power. Even Venable—the high and mighty bitch who ruled over all—was clearly shaken by his arrival.

No one knew much about him, only that he was important. And dangerous.

The interviews with Langdon had quickly become a topic of annoyance among the other inhabitants. Each person who had been interviewed complained about his cryptic nature and nonchalant attitude. Whatever his purpose here, it felt like a game to him—a clever farce meant to toy with you all.

And now it was your turn to entertain him.

You kept your gaze fixed ahead as Langdon rose from behind his desk, the sound of his boots against the floor the only disruption to the stifling silence as he approached you. He did not bother to sit. Instead, he stood before you, arms clasped behind his back, his expression inscrutable as he studied you.

“You’re the seventh,” he announced, and his voice was smooth, like a glassy winter pond. You nodded, swallowing hard, unable to tear your eyes away from him as he began to circle you. The way he moved was languid, graceful.

You fidgeted slightly, trying to suppress your nerves. Langdon was, undeniably beautiful— angelic, even. He looked as if he had been sculpted from marble, with sharp, almost impossibly perfect features—chiselled cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. Long, golden hair fell in soft waves over his shoulders, and his pale skin stood out against his all-black attire. The dark clothing gave him an air of authority, likely because he was sent by The Cooperative.

“Tell me. How do you feel your life here, at the Outpost?” he purred, his voice curling in the air around you. The question seemed casual, yet there was something in the way he said it that made you feel anything but.

“It's...” You paused, your throat suddenly dry. “It’s fine,” the words felt hollow on your tongue, laughable, given the bleak reality of your existence here. Sure, you were relieved to be alive, the temptation of sweet oblivion often lingered at the edge of your thoughts. Langdon moved behind you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel his bright blue gaze drilling into the back of your skull.

When he spoke again, his voice was a soft, coaxing whisper, like honeyed velvet.

“What do you miss the most?”

The question struck you off guard. It wasn’t what you had anticipated—then again, you hadn’t known what to expect.

“…I’m sorry?”

“Prior to… all of this,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely at the surrounding walls,

“What do you miss most?”

You exhaled shakily, gripping the armrests tighter as you spoke.

“I… I miss the colours. The sky, the sunsets. And the trees, the ones that lined the sidewalks. The way they change in autumn.”

He chuckled softly, and you swore you could detect genuine humour in the sound. Embarrassed at the wistfulness in your tone, you stared down at your lap, at the monotonous gray of your uniform.

“You miss beauty, don’t you?”

he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned closer. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw in the lightest of touches. Stunned into silence, you simply nodded.

He stopped in front of you now, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if appraising your response. The silence stretched, tension pulling at the edges of the room until it felt unbearable. Then, he deadpanned,

“The world outside is a wasteland now,”

There was no trace of emotion, his words as detached as if he were reading from a script. He stepped closer, leaning in. The cool press of his hand settled against your cheek, the metal of his rings biting into your skin. You froze under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

“But perhaps,” he mused, his voice soft, almost to himself, “some beauty has survived after all.”

Just as quickly as he had touched you, he withdrew his hand and resumed circling. Every step he took only made the knot of anxiety in your chest tighten further.

The questions that followed were innocent but somehow, simultaneously intimate. He asked about your favourite book, about what scared you most as a child, your childhood best friend.

Throughout it all, his piercing blue eyes never strayed from you. They stripped you bare, as though he was peeling back the layers of your very soul. You answered as best you could, because you had a nagging suspicion that he already knew the answers before you spoke.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, the interview ended.

“That’s all for now.” Langdon turned on his heel, striding toward the door with the same measured grace. His fingers brushed the sleek panels, sliding them open with ease. He paused at the threshold, turning back to look at you. His expression was unreadable, yet there was something lingering in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite put your fingers on.

“I look forward to our next meeting.”

You blinked, unsure if this was the end. The knot of nerves tightened in your stomach as you stood from the armchair, wringing your hands together.

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice trembling slightly.

“Have I… did I get in?”

Langdon turned fully to face you, a faint, almost amused smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“You were already in before the interview,” he murmured, as if it were an afterthought.

“I just wanted to speak to you nonetheless.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Kinks & Cuddles

kol mikaelson x reader

summary: comforting kol after he faces his mother's rage

tags: hurt / comfort, mentions of abuse, cuddling, mild smut, mommy kink, blood drinking / sharing

word count: ~1.6k

note: this is inspired by a michael langdon fic i read years ago. i felt the kink fit kol, too. linked on my ao3 if i can track it down. also, i’m publishing this drunk :)

“Hello, love,” Klaus greets as you enter the mansion, “I assume Rebekah’s called you for the intervention?”

You nod, “is it bad this time?”

“One of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

You purse your lips, wondering how you’ll tackle it. 

“Of course,” he continues, “we could just leave him like that. Eventually he’ll snap out of it and go on a killing spree to deal with his emotions instead.”

“No, I’ll get him better before it comes to that. It’ll be okay.”

“Alrighty then. Oh, but Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“He may be hungry. There’s bags in the fridge if you need.”

“Thank you, Klaus.”

“I’m only a phone call away if you need anything.”

After giving him a polite smile, you make your way up the stairs to Kol’s room.

Ever since you’ve started dating, you’ve become more involved in the Mikaelsons’ family business, which, unfortunately, includes their mother’s torment. It isn’t uncommon for the witch to punish them like children, no matter how old they are. Most of it is yelling, but there are times you’ve seen her be more physical, too. Elijah’s the only one who hasn’t been on the receiving end of her, but that’s because he’s never the troublemaker. And while he can often calm her down mid-argument, sometimes, his efforts are futile. 

This is one of those times. Yesterday, Esther had gotten so angry at Kol that not even Elijah could stop her rage. You hadn’t been there, but his siblings recounted it to you. He had come back from The Mystic Grill a little drunk and the woman was furious, yelling about how he could’ve attacked someone and wouldn’t have been able to properly heal and compel the person away. Kol tried to defend that he wasn’t that drunk, but the defiance earned him a slap to the face. The boy gave up instantly, retreated to his room, and hadn’t been out since. As for their mother, she had left early in the morning, no note nor anything else. This unpredictability isn’t unusual for her, but it sure is maddening. 

After Rebekah and Klaus had searched the entire mansion for their mother and found no trace, they called you. You have become sort of like a guardian angel to the family - saving them on multiple accounts, helping them through tough situations, and comforting them after episodes with their mother. Yes, it’s Kol that you’re dating, but you love the rest of them like siblings. 

Their mother, of course, doesn’t know how close you are with the family. There’s no way she would allow it - not for someone to know the family secrets, nor for someone to love Kol the way you do. At the very least, she’d put a boundary spell around the house to prevent your entry; at the worst, she’d set out to kill you. The siblings wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Kol?” You ask gently as you reach his door. He only groans, muffled by his pillow, in response. “It’s me, baby. Can I come in?”

“Fine.”

You’re just as quiet about turning the knob and sitting beside him on the bed. “Hey, you.” You brush your finger down his cheek. “You look quite cuddly.”

He doesn’t answer, opting to bury his head deeper into the pillow. His hair rests messily against it, and his eyes are closed. Strong arms keep it in place under his head, and the way that they’re flexed shows off his back muscles, which peek out from under the blanket. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Is it okay that I sit with you?”

“Yes.”

“Mmkay, good boy.” You murmur, cuddling up beside him. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

He’s quiet for a minute, then asks, “who called?”

“Bex, this time. She’s worried about you.”

“It was her last time.”

“I remember that. And it was you that called me.”

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Why do you always come when we call?”

“Because I love you all,” you reply instantly. “You’re the family I never had. Except for you, though,” you boop his nose, “because I love you in a different way.”

“I love you, too. Hey, um… can you do that thing you were doing last time?”

“What thing?” You try to rack your brains to what you did last time you comforted your boyfriend. 

“This.” He haphazardly moved a piece of your hair as an example. 

“Ah! Yes, I certainly can.” Immediately, you reach up a hand and pull it through his hair, playing with the locks, and massaging his scalp. 

“Thank you. Feels nice.”

“Good. I’m glad. You need anything else?”

“No, just cuddles.”

“Okay.” You smile. Before you know it, you’re both fast asleep. 

◇◇◇◇

You’re not sure what woke you up, but some hours later, you’re disturbed from a deep sleep. One of your hands still rests in Kol’s hair, while the other lies under your own cheek. When you open your eyes, though, instead of him being at eye level with you, his head is ducked down to your breasts. Before you can ask anything, you sigh involuntarily as you feel your nipple being tugged between his teeth. His tongue is swirling around your breast, wetting it, and then releasing it to flop back to its sideways position. His head then dips to take it in his mouth again, repeating the process. 

As soon as you come to your senses, you try to find your words. “Kol?”

No response. 

“You okay, baby?” You run your hand back through his hair. 

This seems to wake him up, quickly. He snaps out of an apparent trance, removes his mouth, and refuses to look at you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I should’ve asked. I’m sorry, mommy. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, there,” you hook a finger on his chin, “no apologies, you’re perfectly okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He finally looks up at you, “but I touched you without asking.”

“It’s okay, baby. In fact, I’m glad you found the comfort you needed. That’s why I’m here.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Not at all. Do you feel better?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Good. Good boy.” His body shivers at the praise. “Do you need-” You stop mid-sentence. “Did you call me ‘mommy’?”

His face pales. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” His head drops back to the sheets in embarrassment, “I don’t remember.”

“Kol…”

“Please don’t hate me.”

“Oh, pumpkin, I could never hate you! Actually, I find it endearing.” He swallows hard enough that you hear it. “Did you mean it?”

His eyes narrow, “Mean it as in…?”

“As like… was that a slip of the tongue, or was it something you’ve wanted to say?”

“I…I…”

“It’s okay, Kol.”

“I meant it.” He wets his lips. “I just… every time you come help me after mother yells at me, you make me feel safe. Like how a mother should. I don’t know why exactly it makes me want to call you that, but… it does.”

You tilt his chin back up again, and this time he obeys, “to make you feel safe and to love you are all I want to do, Kol. And yes, those are jobs your mother should be fulfilling, too, but if she won’t, I’ll gladly take on both roles.”

“Wait, really? It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. And you already know I love it when you suck on my breasts, baby. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you…”

“You can say it.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

“Of course,” you kiss his head, “mommy loves you. She’s here to take care of you. And, speaking of, are you hungry?”

Before he can answer, his grumbling stomach gives him away. 

“Ah, so it seems.”

“I don’t want to go downstairs, yet. Please don’t make me.”

“Oh no, no, no, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you do anything, baby. I know what it’s like to be in that kind of headspace, and you really shouldn’t go down there until you’re out of it. Not only do I need to take care of you now, but I have first-hand felt the embarrassment of being in public while in a special headspace, and I don’t want you to go through that, okay? No, we’re gonna stay right here.”

He blinks up at you, wanting to cry at how thankful he is for your understanding, yet having no words to say about it. You catch onto this and kiss his forehead. 

“Alright, baby, you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Mmkay, I want you to feed on me, okay?”

“Wait - no, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, Kol. I trust you.”

“But-”

“You need to eat, Kol. And I’m not leaving you, nor letting you go down there. Now, come on.” You lift your wrist to his lips. 

Slowly, he drags his teeth along your skin, still hesitant. 

“Feed, sweetheart.”

He takes a deep breath, then finally pierces his fangs into your skin. You gasp at the feeling, eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Good boy, keep going. Keep going.” You play with your hair as you encourage him. “Mommy’s got you. She trusts you.”

After about a minute, the color returns to his face, and he drinks with more confidence. Then, he stops, and immediately bites his own wrist to bring to your lips. You take it, watch your wound heal, and smile up at him. 

“Do you feel better?”

“A lot better. Thank you, Y/N, for the blood. And for comforting me. And for loving me. And for, y’know, not making fun of me.”

“I would never make fun of you. Nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Do you need anything else?”

“More cuddles?”

“I’d love to.”

[nightfang22]

Masterlists of All My Work

Updated 011/18/2024

Requests are OPEN!

Hazbin Hotel:

Alastor (NO SMUT)

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Angel Dust

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One of Us Is Lying:

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IT:

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Gareth Emerson

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Ben Drowned

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The Good Doctor:

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Heathers:

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Your Boyfriend:

Peter

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Eddsworld:

Tord

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-The Norski and the Themby Chapter One

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Tom

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Sal

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Larry

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-Get Angry

We Need To Talk About Kevin:

Kevin Khatchadourian

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American Horror Story:

Tate Langdon

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Kit Walker

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Kyle Spencer

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Jimmy Darling

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Kai Anderson

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Criminal Minds:

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My Hero Academia:

Katsuki Bakugo

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Denki Kaminari

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Dabi

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Misc.

Shouta Aizawa

Blurbs

Smut

Imagines

-Can't Erase Heartbreak

-Can't Erase Heartbreak Part 2

Series

Misc.

Big Hero 6

Hiro Hamada

Blurbs

Smut

Imagines

Series

Misc.

[wroteclassicaly]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag, lovely! @morningberriesao3

1) How many works do you have on AO3? - Unsure of the exact number, but 20+?

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? - Unsure, but I know 100,000 +?

3) What fandoms do you write for? - American Horror Story, Supernatural, The Walking Dead, Shameless, Stranger Things, Buffy & Angel.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos? - Ah, shit. Now I have to go find them, 😂

She’s Trouble

Untitled Steve fic

Ripe

And then the rest have just been drabbles, other stuff, etc.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? - I try to! If I don’t get them all it’s because I get overwhelmed!

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - Would have to be a tie between these three:

Get Going, Or Get Lost, I Won’t Stand By, Walk Until You Belong

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - The ones that aren’t angsty 😂 I think this one.

8) Do you get hate on fics? - Oh yeah, lmao.

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kinds? - All kinds. Rough, soft, funny, angsty, fluffy, hate, comfort, slow, fast, hard, etc.

10) Do you wrote crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written? - Not really. I had a Michael Langdon and Jack Kline crossover planned with a reader, but I never got to it. :/

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? - Multiple times, lol.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? - Once.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? - Yes!

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? - Gallavich and Steddie.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? - My Gator x ex-best-friend!reader fic. All of them, really… haha.

16) What are your writing strengths? - I think I’m good at smut and describing things.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? - I struggle with grammar (I love commas, lol) and dialogue.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? - Go for it!

19) First fandom you wrote for? - Buffy. But online? American Horror Story.

20) Favorite fic you’ve written? - That would be all three of my top five most kudos fics! Well… the three of them! See above! I’m also in love with some of the WIP’s I’ve worked on.

No pressure tags: @loveshotzz @dandelioninajungle @moonbeamsandmayhem @corrodedcorpses @courtingchaos @jo-harrington @prettyboyeddiemunson @littledemondani @aphrogeneias @onegirlmanytales @bettyfrommars @lofaewrites @carolmunson @succubusmunson @pastel-pillows @andvys @groubee @myosotisa @stevenose @palmtreesx3 @thornsnvultures @eddiemunsonspantschain @word-wytch @justmeinadaze @lonelysatellites whoever else wants to!

[mrslangdon666]

Are you going to do a part three of somethings wrong? Sorry I don't want to be a pest ...im dying to read when they finally do it. Also....how about a fic where Michael is in the woods waiting for his father to speak to him in the sojourn episode and the diaper angel appears but this time it's a female angel that appears and well that's when SMUT ensues with the poor confused Angel who has absolutely no idea what sex is or what Michael's trying to do to her? 😈😈😈😈

Oooo I like this idea...🙀😼

Warning: Extremely innocent Angel! Reader. Sojourn! Michael, utter filthy smut. Seriously.

YOUR POV

You were called by the Lord to help this poor boy, the apparent antichrist. You ended up in the woods, and in front of you was a discheveled young man who looked utterly helpless and upset. You walked over to him and reassuringly told him

“God loves you, Michael.” He looked at you in awe, tracing his fingers on your Lily-white feathered wings gently, before attaching his lips to yours forcefully. What was he doing? Why was he kissing you...on t-the lips? You were so confused and just stood there as his hands went to your breasts. He cupped them before rubbing the nipples with the tips of your fingers before ripping your beautiful top to shreds. He removed his lips from yours and his mouth attacked one of your breasts, sucking on the nipple and biting it gently.

“M-michael what are you d-doing?” You uttered breathily. It felt...good. No, it felt absolutely amazing! What was this feeling? You hadn’t ever experienced it before. He switched breasts, kneading the other one from before and once more sucking the nipple, his tongue flicking it in his mouth.

“That’s right whore of god. Moan for your new saviour.” He said cockily as he lowered his hands to your core, pressing a finger to your clothed clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily and you didn’t understand what was happening. You were beginning to feel...wet? Down there? He discarded your skirt and underwear as he pushed you up against a thick tree. His fingers rubbed at you wet entrance and pushed one inside of you testingly. You jumped in shock at the pleasure and began to pant helplessly.

“You like the way my finger feels? Huh? Wait until you feel my cock. Soon, you��re going to be a fallen Angel.” He said before attacking your engorged clit with his tongue. He flicked the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue and smirked at your reaction. Fallen angel...he said. But the words weren’t registering with you. All you could think about was the blissful pleasure that was taking over you. You felt yourself start to clench down on his fingers when he added another.

“I-what is happening?” You said as you grew hot and felt a coil form in your pelvic region.

“You’re about to cum like a filthy slut, that’s what. Don’t worry, my little fallen Angel. Let it go.” He cooed up at you and continued his assault on your core.

“I-I ohhhh!” You moaned out as the coil snapped, and your knees buckled. Michael caught you and picked you up, your back now pressing against the tree and his pelvic area now between your spread legs.

“Unbuckle my belt, and pull out my cock.” He said, spitting in your mouth. You did as he asked and gawked at his length. You had never seen a cock before, and it was beautiful. The tip was swollen and red, a clear drop of wetness leaking out from the slit. A large vein traveled up his shaft and your virgin mouth watered.

“You like that? Just you wait.” And with that, he placed his cock head at your entrance and pushed in with one swift move.

“Ah!” You yelped and he covered your mouth with his hand, thrusting into you with force. His cock beat up your inner walls, stretching them deliciously. You were being de-flowered, and you loved every second of it.

“Look at you. Fucking the new whore of babalyon.” He said as his balls slapped against your flesh from the sheer intensity of his pounding of you into the tree. You felt that familiar coil from before form again, and you shut your eyes as it snapped.

“Fuck!” Michael grunted as your cunt clamped down on his cock like a vice, milking his cum out and forcing his seed inside of you. Once he was finished, he set you down gently on the ground and grabbed your chin.

“You, my sweet little whore, will give birth to the offspring of the antichrist and an angel of god in nine months.” He said, looking into your eyes with excitement. Oh God, what has become of me, you thought as you blacked out.

@kitty4860

*Authors note: Hope you loved this filth 😈

Xoxo,

Mrs. Langdon 🖤🫀

[randomperson351]

Angel of Death - ML

Summary: After a trying day of interviews, Langdon's favourite person appears to make him feel better.

Do not repost or rewrite my work. Minors and blank blogs get blocked.

Masterlist         Asks

"Lets continue this conversation another time." Langdon told Gallant, rising from his seat and opening the office doors.

"What? That's it? How did I do, did I get in?" He kept pestering. Langdon merely kept his passive expression and waited for him to leave.

With a heavy sigh and finally relenting when Langdon didn't answer, Gallant picked himself out of the chair and exited the office. Once he had finally left, Langdon could release a sigh of his own.

He closed the doors after Mr Gallant and sat in the chair facing his fireplace, already fully fed up with being at Outpost 3 with these mere humans. He closed his eyes and exhaled, the fire increasing in heat and size; then decreasing again when he inhaled, not that Langdon minded. He enjoyed feeling the scorching heat against his face, it reminded him of his father.

"Long day at work?" That sultry voice interrupted his thoughts; again, not that he minded.

Slowly his eyes opened at the same time he let a smirk grow on his lips. He turned his chair around to face the person that owned the voice that could have him on his knees if it so commanded.

"You've got no idea." He replied lazily, taking in the full view of you.

It made sense really, Satan's son completely infatuated with the Angel of Death. The way your voice comforted those in pain and helped him sacrifice more souls to his father drove him crazy the first moment he saw you cleaning up his mess. Even as he looked at you now, the slight blush on your pale cheeks from the heat of the fire that contrasted deliciously with the jet black of your dress. Your eyes a stunning shade of dark blue, your lips a beautiful deep red he keeps trying to claim but never can. The only person he has ever felt a connection to.

You began moving towards him as he raised out of his chair, hands clasped behind his back as you reached each other. He was quite a bit taller than you, so you had to slightly raise your neck to keep eye contact with his oceanic eyes, the smirk never leaving his face.

"So how are you?" You asked him, a somewhat lull to your voice as you broke the tension building between the two of you when you took a few steps back and started flicking through the files on his desk of the candidates at Outpost 3.

"Bored," He started before walking back over to where you were now stood, tantalizingly moving to glide behind you, "Lying in wait for something," he paused again, ghosting his hand up your arm and across the back of your shoulders, leaning closer to your ear, "or someone," he whispered, "to do."

"Do you not have selections to make?" You asked, moving your head to the side meeting his eyes with your own.

"They can wait." He told you, his hands carefully grasping your forearms to keep you in place.

He slowly leaned closer until your noses were touching, thinking you didn't know what he was doing; more trying to do.

"No my dear, you know we can't." You told him, breaking eye contact completely and gently pushing him away so that you could move to stand by the fire.

As a response to your actions, Langdon released a groan laced with anger and thudded his hands down onto his desk.

"Come on, I am the fucking son of Satan I think I know how to resist the kiss of death!" He exploded, eyes burning into your back that was facing him.

"Enough! There will be no discussion in this matter, understood? The last time I kissed you, you actually died; or shall I remind you of what happened?" You roared back in anger.

"I was weaker then." He told you, in a quieter voice now.

"And you are somehow stronger now, are you?" You asked him, turning in place to face him but not move closer. Michael however, chose to step towards you again, getting closer and closer until he is only a few paces away, neither of you breaking eye contact.

"I'm unbeatable." He said calmly. But you wouldn't give in that easily.

"No Michael. We can't risk it." You spoke softly, turning back to the fire, finding an odd sense of comfort in watching the flames ripple. He stepped even closer behind you, ghosting his hands up your back to your shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze.

"Can I?" He whispered.

"Yes." You replied softly, the harshness now completely gone from your voice which made the sultriness come back.

Langdon's right hand grazed from your shoulder to the top of your back where the zipper to your dress was and dragged it half way down to open the top half.

He pulled apart the two sides to reveal the black outlines of your wings imprinted onto your skin, and used his fingers to trace every line and feather that was there.

"Why don't you let them free?" He asked you softly, grazing his lips along your spine creating goosebumps.

"There is no need to, I only need them when taking someones life. They're not exactly for everyday use." You explained softly, relishing in the feeling of someone else so close to you for a change.

"You wouldn't even release them for me to see, while no one else is here?" He questioned, now tucking his hands in behind the material of your dress to touch even more of your skin.

"Michael, they come out when they want to, I can't make them appear nor go away once they are free; that's the way it works."

With his hands comfortably feeling around your waist, he gripped you a little harder and turned you half way round to face him.

"Come along darling, let us not play games any longer."

"But what if I do kill you, I don't know if I can bring you back again."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take just to get a kiss from you." He persuaded you at last, turning you all the way and doing up your dress again at the back, holding you close.

"Michael." You barely whispered in an effort at one last protest.

"Elenora." He teased back, his face moving closer but this time you didn't move away; almost like you couldn't.

"Very well." You relented eventually, giving him the freedom to do as he wished.

As his lips molded slowly and carefully onto your own, you felt nothing happen other than the sparks explode from being this close to him. Not the gain in your heart beat or a surge of adrenaline; he truly could force, what you considered to be your curse, away.

During the moments he was kissing you, you realised he was right; Michael Langdon was now unbeatable.

[b-1327-1]

I feel as if with every human x higher being story I read, my soul is being weighed 🙂

[carnalpleasure]

Michael x Angel!Reader 👼

hi!! i’ve had this idea in my head for months and finally felt inspired to start it tonight. i’m still working on my other two fics.. but Michael’s been calling to me lately💕

Summary: The reader assigns herself to be Michael’s guardian angel. This takes place at the beginning of Sojourn, with Michael in the wilderness. But takes a slightly different turn <3

Every human being in the history of humanity had been born with a guardian angel. The precious moment a newborn baby breathes its first breath of life, an angel is assigned to be their lifelong guardian. The angel’s main mission being to protect their human ward from the dark forces that had plagued the earth for all eternity. Ever since the serpent seduced Eve into her first bite of the knowledge of Good and Evil.

But that streak was broken one day in late March of 2012, when Vivian Harmon gave birth to Satan’s only begotten son.

She was the Anti-Mary. Instead of a blessed virgin being touched by an angel, she was a victim of a demonic sexual assault. She died giving birth to the Antichrist.

Michael Langdon was Satan’s very first creation. Because he was not a child of God, he was not born with a guardian angel. His father didn’t bother to assign him a guardian demon either. The spawn of Satan was left in the hands of none other than his grandmother Constance, whom his father felt was perfect for raising the little monster.

When Michael outgrew her, his father introduced him to Anton Lavey, one of his most trusted followers, who would then introduce Michael as the heir to the Church of Satan.

Michael, however, didn’t really take to Anton. He felt much closer to another key member of the church, Miriam Mead. She took a liking to the boy too and lovingly welcomed him into her home, where she taught him all about rituals, prayers, Black Mass, satanic prophecy.. She was preparing him for the apocalypse. His destiny, as they’d all say.

Once Michael began becoming aware of his powers, his father then led him into the hands of the Warlocks. They thought they were training him to be their next Supreme, but he only needed them to show him how to use his powers. They were disposable beyond that.

Michael was a loyal son, never questioning his father’s decisions, until his beloved Ms. Mead was permanently taken from him by the witches. Cordelia was right, why did he let this happen?

In search of answers, Michael fled to the wilderness on a quest. Jesus had spent 40 days out in the desert being tempted by Satan himself before his own Father finally spoke to him. Michael decided he had to do the same.

That’s when he wandered out into the forest on the outskirts of LA and started to trace a pentagram in the dirt, tired and out of options.

“I’m not going any further,” he sulked, dragging the jagged stone across the ground. “Father, tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he pleaded, out of breath as he finished carving his sigil into the soil.

“I’m not leaving this circle until you talk to me,” he pouted stubbornly. “They’re gone.. the warlocks.. my Ms. Mead. Burned alive at the stake by the witches. Until nothing was left but ash and smoke,” his voice was breaking but he was too exhausted to cry.

“You tell me what to do,” he sighed, “or you let me die here.” Then he fell to his knees in the center of the circle and waited for a sign.

He watched the sun set and rise four times before he finally had a vision. But even then, he couldn’t be sure if he was seeing a sign or just suffering from severe dehydration.

He saw a little boy offering a cold grape Fanta, and a little girl holding a basket of red apples, and he thought maybe God was trying to tempt him into the light now. To distract him from his mission and derail him from his destiny.

He refused, “No, I’m on a mission. I have to talk to my father,” he said weakly. “Leave me alone.” Then the visions turned dark. He was taunted by Ms. Mead and then praised by Anton Lavey.

“You’re not real. None of this is.. re-real.” He shook his head and raised his hand to shield his face from the blinding light that was radiating from the High Priest before him.

“You’ve done a great job.” The Satanist proudly smiled. “No..” Michael protested, “I failed. I-I’m lost. I don’t understand my purpose,” he was out of breath and at a loss for words. He was tired of games, all he wanted was his father’s help. Everything was spinning.

The vision of Anton continued reciting to him from the prophecy in Revelation, calling him the Alpha and the Omega. Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He made a lunge for Anton, wrapping a hand around his throat to choke him out. Only seconds later, the vision vanished altogether.

And that’s when he saw you. The last thing he remembered was an impossibly beautiful girl with big white wings and a little white dress. He fell to his knees again, in shock and exhaustion, and collapsed into her arms. He felt the warm, soft embrace of feathers, and then he fell into a much needed sleep.

When he awoke a day later, he was still pretty disoriented from the lack of food, water, and sleep. His mind was a haze. He didn’t realize where he was, he only knew that this bed was softer than anything he’d ever felt.

The blankets felt like fluffed up clouds and the pillows smelled like lavender. A cool breeze caressed his skin, and he noticed the temperature of the room was significantly cooler than anything he’d felt in a long time. That radiating heat that seemed to consume him constantly just wasn’t there.

He reached his hand out to feel along the bed. Empty. He opened his eyes, hoping to see the angel from his dreams sitting there watching over him. But the room was empty too.

He sat up in bed, clutching the sheets and looking around anxiously. The room was nice, but it wasn’t anything extreme. It was kinda charming actually, soft and cozy. It didn’t look like anyone had been living here for very long.

Michael climbed out of bed, stepping foot on the soft, plush carpet and smiling at the touch. He walked towards the bedroom door which was just barely cracked open, and stuck his head out slowly to peak outside.

You were in the kitchen, digging around in the refrigerator when you heard him come out. You twisted around, bumping the fridge door shut with your hip and then dropping everything on the counter.

“You’re up already? Are you feeling okay?” The pained look on his face made you worry. He looked exhausted still, leaning against the doorway just to hold himself up.

You rushed to his side, a little faster than humanly possible, and wrapped an arm around his waist to help him steady himself. He leaned into your embrace but winced a little at your touch. His body was sore everywhere.

He couldn’t stop staring at you. Almost glaring, looking at you like you’d just lied straight to his face. You walked him to the counter, sitting him down across from you and then running back to quickly check the stove. He didn’t take his eyes off you the whole time.

“I’m making you a breakfast feast,” you smiled at him over your shoulder. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days..”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected. “But wh-who are you? How did I get here?”

You smiled gently, passing him a plate of bacon and eggs to get him started while you finished the french toast. “I’m Y/N, I brought you here,” you said happily.

He kept looking you up and down. You looked exactly like he remembered, but you were now missing one unique, defining feature..

“Are you-“ he couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud. It didn’t seem possible to him. “You had.. wings before,” his brow furrowed in confusion and his glare returned.

You simply nodded, glancing over at him and frying a piece of toast in the pan. “You remembered,” you said with a smile.

His confusion only grew. You poured him a glass of milk and then slid the fork closer to him. “Eat, please. We have plenty of time to talk later. I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” you brushed his blonde curls out of his face and the divine touch of your fingers briefly lingered on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

He hesitated, picking up his fork and taking a bite. It wasn’t just the starvation talking, he genuinely enjoyed your food. He immediately started feeling his strength and energy coming back. He felt revitalized.

It wasn’t just the food. Something about your presence was so satisfying to him. You brought him a kind of merciful peace that was only reserved for the saints. He didn’t need confirmation, he knew in his heart you were something holy. And he only hoped that you didn’t know what he truly was. If you ever fell in love with him, it would be your fall from grace.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered softly. His heart was pounding. He felt like he was committing a crime just by being in your presence. He felt like God would smite him any minute just for laying eyes on you.

You cupped his face in your hands gently, wiping away a stray tear that fell from his eyes. “As of today, I’m officially a guardian angel,” you smiled proudly. Your eyes actually twinkled, it completely captivated him.

“Guardian? Who’s guardian?” his pouty lip quivered and you could see all the new emotions swirling around him like a hurricane. He couldn’t believe any of this was really happening. He thought he must’ve been dreaming. He wasn’t dead, he knew that. He was destined for hell and there’s no one like her down there.

He was so cute. “Yours, duh” you giggled, letting go of his face and playfully tousling his blonde locks. He looked up at you with a small smirk that spread into a big smile. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. “How?-“ he silently mouthed as the words he was looking for escaped him.

“You didn’t have one,” you shrugged. “So I.. guess you could say I volunteered.” You didn’t want to overwhelm him with too many details, but the adorable confused puppy look on his face was begging for answers. “Volunteered?” he repeated, cocking his head to the side curiously. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I just thought you should have someone looking out for you too.. you know. You didn’t deserve to be abandoned. Not by God or anyone.” You said it with such sincerity, he could see it on your face how strongly you felt about those words.

His eyes started to overflow with tears but he couldn’t help but smile. It was the single kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. That’s when it hit him. You already knew what he was. You knew who he was. And you were willing to go against both God’s will and Satan’s to take over as his protector. You left heaven just for him.

He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and quietly sobbing into your chest. Tears of pure joy and gratitude. Little “thank yous” whispered on repeat against your skin, so close you can feel his lips brushing across your collarbones with each word.

He snaked his arms around your waist tighter and tighter, pulling you as close to him as physics would allow. It melted your heart how close he wanted to be to you.

“Aw.. you just want to be held,” you giggled, putting your arms around his shoulders and hugging his body closer to yours. “I’m here, Michael. I’ve got you now. You’re safe, you’re mine,” you cooed, your lips brushing against his temple.

His eyes were closed and his face was pressed against your chest, all he heard was a swift whoosh as your wings suddenly appeared, folding around both of your bodies like a soft shield tucking him into you. He’d never felt so safe before, all nestled in your feathers.

He peaked his eyes open to look around at them. “That’s fucking awesome,” he muttered softly, his jaw dropping as his eyes shot up to meet yours. You smiled down at him, kissing his forehead. You couldn’t help but giggle. He made you feel giddy, the way he looked at you. Like you were made of magic.

“My own guardian angel,” he said quietly to himself, still in awe of it all. He refused to let go of you for the rest of the day after that. All he wanted to do was lie in your arms. Feel your embrace. And you were happy to oblige because he needed to rest anyway. The two of you returned to your bed where he spent the rest of the night on your chest, fast asleep in your arms. The safest place he could ever be.

💕taglist: @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo

[anangelwhodidntfall]

Blood In The Water Masterlist

❝ - they say the loveliest angels make the cruelest demons; and my darling, you were 𝘀𝗼 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 & 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹 before they dragged you to hell. ❞ your fall was 𝐧𝐨𝐭 an accident.           . . . you were destined for the 𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑵𝑬𝑫.

Angel

Halloween Special

Chapter One

Chapter Two 

Chapter Three 

Chapter Four 

Chapter Five 

[lupus-carnalis]

When (Y/N) is thrust into the hands of werewolf pack leader Dandy Mott of Mississippi through an arranged marriage, she doesn’t know that it is simultaneously the worst and best thing to happen to her. After three months spent as his personal possession and his refusal to bond with her, (Y/N) is helped by the charming Prof. John Henry Moore to escape his clutches with the help of the Los Angeles Alphas. Hurtling from one unknown into the next, her journey of self-discovery leads her to the realisation that some things are bound by more than blood.

Your journey is about to unfold.

@prophecy-is-inevitable x @matildaofoz

[mochminnie]

Boy Meets Evil - Michael Langdon Masterlist

Plot: This series covers Coven and Apocalypse. Reader/ Ariana have an angelic ring that prevents the world from ending. She’s the daughter of Ariel Augustus. Will she be caught in the middle of her coven, her sisters and Michael? Opposites Attract (Angelic Witch x Anti Christ) *Michael comes in later chapters*

https://ko-fi.com/mochminnie *(Please support me on both Wattpad & Ko-fi it would mean so much to me)*

Taglist:

Aesthetic Boards

Chapter 1

*Let me know if you want me to tag you*

[awfully-written-fairytales]

Dream come true.

Been a while since I posted on here.

When I wrote this I didn’t really have a person in mind, so imagine whoever you want.

SUMMARY: He pictures his wife wife and kids, then all of a sudden, someone knocks at the door.

WORD COUNT : 3074

It was a Friday night and he was alone sitting in his chair with a beer in his hand. The television was playing some show that he lost interest in a while ago. His mind going a mile a minute, his thoughts didn’t pertain to one specific thing. He thought of his past. His parents, his mistakes, missed opportunities and lessons that he learned. He also let his thoughts pertrain to his future.

He knew what he wanted in life. He’s pictured his apple pie life every time a day was hard on him. His house would be two stories, the color would be azure. His wife wanted a porch that could fit a swing, some rocking chairs and a bouncer for their children. He’d walk into the house and drop off all his work baggage at the door.

He’d walk into the kitchen and see his wife, humming along to some Beatle song, making dinner for their family. His wife, god he imagined her so many times.the face always changed but the personality was always the same. His wife was protective over him, she was always smiling. He got home from work, he was greeted with a smile and some music she was obsessed with. His wife always stood up to his bullshit, she knew all of his secrets, she could take one look at him and atomically knew that he wasn’t okay. His wife and him had three beautiful kids together.

His kids, they were amazing. Two boys and one girl. His oldest son took after him. The only resemblance to his mother was his beautiful eyes. His second son, took after his mother. He was a carbon copy to his wife. Their daughter is a mixture of them both. She was tall like her daddy, sweet like her momma. Her Eyes were a mixture of both of her parents .

He would read to them every night, sing an AC/DC song to them when he could get away with it. Picked them up from school, took them to their extracurriculars and had family diner every night.

He dreamed about it, he prayed to god for it, he wished upon stars, and threw coins into a fountain. He would never tell anybody this but sometimes he could hear his ‘wife’ singing that familiar beatle song and could smell some of his ‘wife’ home cooking.

Tears pricked at his eyes, he didn’t want to cry. He knew from the start that he couldn’t have this life, but Jesus he yearned for it.

He wiped the lone tear that fell from his eye. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“ This never works but I’m not going to give up. I know you have to other stuff to grant for other people but I’m a good person, I know I’ve done some questionable things but I’ve always put other people before me. I th-“

He stopped talking and shook his head thinking about how stupid he must look right now.

“I think I deserve some happiness in my dark life”

He continues, looking back up.

He shut his eyes and talked openly about how he would be the best man and father he could be to his family.

“ uhh, I don’t know if I should say amen, but I guess amen”

His took a long sip of his beer, the burning of the alcohol was a welcoming feeling. He wiped the remaining beer from his mouth and stood up once he heard the urgency in the knock that was coming from the front door.

He opened up the front door and standing in front of him was a small girl. The girl was facing towards a bright red car sitting behind his baby.

“Uh, hello” he said opening the door.

The girl turns and gives him a bright smile, the smile that is burned in his memory forever.

The smile that greets him home every time he returns to that two story azure house.

“Uh, yeah hi. Sorry to bother you but my car just broke down and I need some help with it”

The familiar voice sends warmth throughout his entire body.

“Yeah, let me just get my tools. I’ll meet you out by your car”

“You are my hero, seriously thank you!”

Little did she know that she’s saved his life so many times without realizing it, without knowing him.

[emmyrosee]

Fighting with Miquel for dominance in bed and calling each other denigrant names

Oh wow😳❤️

———

Flipping yourself onto your back, Michael quickly straddles you before pinning you to the bed. He attacks your lips and neck with his own sinful mouth, and you squirm under his grip.

“What’s the matter little girl? Can’t fight me off anymore?”

Resistance play between you and Michael was nothing new; in fact, it gave you the greatest rush, especially knowing how it affects him too. He could overtake you within milliseconds, but that’s part of the rush. He’s so venomous, dangerous, he’s like a poison apple, but you’re so ready to bite.

With all your force, you shove him off of you, a loud, deep grunt passing from the blow. You take your own position on his waist, pinning his wrists to the bed and grinding your hips against his. His mouth drops open as you rock your hips, and you lick your teeth as you taunt.

“Come on, fucker,” you growl. “Do it. Take me down.” You lean close to his ear, “unless you’re too much of a little bitch?”

You barely have time to process the words that leave your lips before he snatches your wrists, that concealed strength breaking though at your words. He has you, and he’s not letting go. It almost hurts, the way he awkwardly has your arms as he guides them above your head before trailing his freehand down your face to your throat, pressing the delicate skin area down hard, and you struggle for breath. The throbbing need between your legs calls out for him, want him, crave him, and you accept defeat silently.

Michael tilts his head and leans close to your ear, his breath warm and low. “Guess I gotta ease up on you, huh angel?”

[hecohansen31]

Angel (Teaser):

Michael Langdon+Apparently Innocent! Reader

(A/N): Hello lovelies!

I am finally back with this series!

And also I am back here on tumblr and I will be working a lot of asks, so if you have sent one and didn’t get an answer for it, I will be working on them this afternoon, don’t worry!

I also wanted you to know, that if you have been tagged into my previous fic of this series, you’ll be tagged into also this one (let me know if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, please), and if you want to be tagged into this, just like this post!

I am sorry, I am a bit late with all this, but trip are exhausting!

Hope you’ll enjoy this!

WARNINGS; Rough Unprotected Sex (please guys, it takes you luterally a millisecond to wrap it, and avoid unwanted pregnancies and STDs, so DO IT!) Oral Sex (Male Reeceiving), Dirty Talk, Mention of Nudity, A Bit of Blasphemy.

And when Michael Langdon, the Boy Wonder, Hawthorne perfect student, with an amazing pendant to get under each witch’s skin had taken up to use that nickname, she knew she was doomed.

Because, whereas others were saying it with admiration, he said with a smirk which said: “I know what it is under that innocent exterior”.

But he didn’t say it the way other perverts thought they could see what hid under her own eyes.

He knew what she hid.

As if he recognized in her some deep darkness, he himself shared, in the darkest part of his soul.

If he owned one.

Because of this, she had decided to confront him, tell him that he knew nothing about her and to stop giving her those dirty looks.

[stupidocupido]

Do it all over again

“Darling you are, the only exception. (and I am on my way to believing)”

The four times she could not save him, and the one time she did.

Summary: Reader is an (half) angel pretending to be a witch. Giving herself the task to save Michael and the world in the progress. Five times she tries, only one time she succeeds. A bit backstory: it all starts in the outpost when Mallory goes back in time to kill Michael. Seeing young Michael die for the first time made Reader realize she should save him Warnings: There is a lot of angst in this one. Also character death. But it has a happy ending. There is also a bit fluff. There are mentions of smut. 

Words: 5160

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i - Sister

Feet bare, tears still fresh in his eyes. It looks like he does not know where to go, he seems completely lost. I cross the street, leaving the shadow of the murder house. “Michael.” Calling out his name, making him stop in his tracks. When I reach him I grab his arm, urging him to step away from the street. The car is close, I see the witch behind the wheel. “No questions, follow me.” Running away from something that would be his death, making our way through gardens and fields.

“Tell me your biggest fear.” Legs intertwined, noses almost touching. The blanket keeping our bodies warm. The sounds of the night outside, the rustling of animals searching for food. Camping in the woods had not been my idea, but it was better than getting caught by a witch wanting him dead.  “Being alone.” The innocence of it, the fear of a young boy. I can’t believe Mallory had rather killed him with her car then try to save him from the darkness. “You will never be alone.” Touching his face, combing his wild hair with my fingers. “I promise.”

I can’t sleep, concentrating on his breathing instead. Will it be better this time around? I think I made the right choice, I would save him each time again. A cycle of sacrifice over and over again. Kissing his brow gently, feeling responsible for his tormented soul. This time will be different. This time will be better.

I am like an older sister. Protecting him from unwanted dangers, protecting him from himself and protecting others from him. And that is how we live for a while, like a brother and sister. He takes care of me, and I take care of him. Living of stolen food, sleeping in abandoned houses. It is not the life I would have chosen for us, it is not the life he deserves. But he is alive, and that is more important than the how. And I love him like a brother, wanting nothing but the best for him. This Michael is different from the Michael I’ve come to know. This Michael is all what could have been.

She finds us months later. Sitting in a cheap diner, pretending we have the money to buy the food in front of us. He laughs about his own joke, happiness always present in his eyes. Although our life is tough, he still seems to find good in it. Promising me it will be better, as long as we are together. More fries then his mouth can fit in his hand, his cheeks filled with food. Nonetheless he always makes space to smile for me, making me smile in return. The feeling of love in my stomach, we will be okay.

The bullet hits him from behind, the first one hitting his shoulder. She is only a couple meters away from us, she’s too close to run. The next bullet pierces right through his head, making his blonde hair turn red from blood. I scream, his face falling in the plate in front of him. Jumping up, a murderous feeling in my stomach. I can’t kill humans, and never will. But I can feel the agony, I can feel the cruel feeling of anger sweeping through my body. Holding his head in my hands, the ghost of his smile still present on his face. Crying tears filled with anger, the overwhelming feeling of sadness. I kiss the top of his head, the red of his blood staining my lips. I look up, she’s still there, a shocked expression decorating her features. Hugging his lifeless body, my hands still searching for a beat in his chest. Mallory shoots me, it takes five bullets to kill me. She also cries, for the sister she thought she lost.

I don’t really die though, for I am not the witch she thinks I am. Instead I travel further, travel to a different outcome. Another chance, another beginning. Another chance for me to make it right.

 ii – Friend

“Hey, you’re also new here!” Smiling I walk towards the fence that separates my garden from the neighbors garden. “In the neighborhood, I mean.” Leaning one arm on the fence, watching him stand up. It looks like he is hesitant to talk to me, but when he sees my smile he gives in. “Yeah, I just moved in with Ms. Mead.” He gives me a shy smile. He is wearing a black t-shirt that is way too big for him. “I also just moved in, how do you like it here so far?” He shrugs, letting his eyes wander over the empty street. “Yeah, it’s a bit boring here.” He smiles after my words, leaning on the fence as well. “And it’s so hot here, that you aren’t burning up in your all black outfit.” This makes him laugh aloud. “I can take the heat.” “Well, that makes one of us. Do you want something refreshing to drink anyway?” He nods, jumping over the fence. A giggle escapes me, hiding my smile behind my hand. “So you’re a troublemaker.” He laughs as well. “You have no idea.”

It’s easy to become friends with him. Talking the days away, watching the stars during the night time. And I trust him, always will. Sharing secrets the best way I can. The feeling of being lonely, being one of a kind. We both are cursed that way, being the only ones of our kind. And when summer ends, I lay with him in in the garden of his adoptive mother. “I am happy I met you, I don’t think I ever trusted someone like I trust you.” I smile after his words, taking his hand to hold it. “Me too, it feels like I can be completely myself when I am around you.”

There is no need for hiding my true self when I am with him. And he makes me laugh so easily, makes me forget about my worries and doubts as if they were never there. And when I feel down, when the nights are too dark, the memories of him dying ever present, he makes it all better. His easy way with words, he always knows what to say to cheer me up.

And sometimes it does feel like he is the only one who can make me happy, the only one who loves me for me and not the image I created.

He is the first one I want to share good news with, the first one I want to share bad news with. I share it all with him, my best friend from next door.

And maybe that is all he needs, a friendship like ours, a place for him to go back to. He will never have to feel alone, because he will always have me and I will always have him. And I did not realize that I rely this much on him. Did not realize it was him who made my days better. The messages we sent each other every evening, the conversations we share about some stupid show we watch. It is all so mundane, the life we live is easy.

And one day, when Ms. Meade goes shopping for groceries, I convince him to stay with me in the backyard. “We will help her unload when she is back, I want to show you something.” And I show him the tiniest bit of my powers, making the leaves around us fly. Surrounding the two of us in a storm of golden and brown colors. And the look he gives me is so sweet that I want to hug him. And why shouldn’t I, we are friends after all. And as I hug him the leaves fall down. I feel the light in him, feel the wonder in him. “I know you have magic too. I just wanted you to know it can be beautiful like this.” He needs to know, needs to know magic is more than destruction.

“How do you control it like that?” His blue eyes are filled with tears. He finally told me about his past. I already knew about his childhood, I already had known how they had treated him. “I can help you control it.”

Keeping him away from the witches and warlocks is not enough, the war between the two species still happens, even without Michael there to spark it. And it’s nasty, young witches snatched out of their beds, killed by the warlocks so hungry for power. Young boys who finally thought to find a home, a family, ripped apart from their loved ones all over again. It’s dirty, it is unholy. It makes me disgust them even more. I thought the witches would be different, humans gifted with the power of light. Once again they prove you can’t really change what is rooted deep within. Violence in their hearts, wickedness in their doings.

And caught between the two fighting groups, there is no running away anymore. And I can’t really defend myself without killing a human being. Something forbidden by the very creator of us. Angels can’t kill, angels are not allowed to take a life. And that is what will kill me each time again, not being able to defend myself. Struck from behind, my body heavily bruised. Dying in his arms, weeping tears of blood. Fire surrounding us, caught in the battle. “Don’t leave me…” He is crying, his hands red with my blood. And I cry for him, cry for another chance gone wrong. And I feel so bitter, feel so resentful towards everything human in this moment, that I finally give in. “Make them pay.” I tell him, knowing this timeline can’t be saved. A kiss pressed against my cheek, his tears dropping on my dying form. “I will.” He tells me. And as I close my eyes to die, I go back to the beginning. Maybe there is another way.

 iii - Mother

I hear the sounds of her screaming even outside. The moaning sounds of a woman dying, I feel her life slipping away. The crying of a healthy baby when she makes her last sound. All I have to do is wait, I can’t really enter the house, it is too unholy for my holy presence. Watching the blonde woman emerge, the woman who had left him to die on the streets in another timeline, in another life. Walking towards them, taking big strides. He is crying in her arms, calling out for a mother who does not want him. She only notices me when I am too close for her to escape me. Blocking the way to her house. “Give him to me.” Holding out my arms, strength in my voice. “And who do you think you are, giving silly orders like that?” She takes a step back. Tilting my head, taking a step closer instead. “Give me the baby, or you will die.” I ofcourse can’t kill her, but I can pretend I can. I only feel a little bit disappointment towards the whole human race when she hands me over the still crying baby. She was no true mother, a true mother would never give away her child. Shaking my head, rocking him in my arms. “You humans really are pathetic sometimes.”

He does not have a name, but I still call him Michael. Named after an angel, I wonder does this make us family. If he is the child of Samuel, or Lucifer as most people know him now, doesn’t that make Michael in a way my cousin? I watch him fall asleep in his crib. Although Mallory does not search for us in this timeline, I am still cautious. I am not sure what the true extend of her powers are. She is a strong witch, and I am only half an angel. Only half an angel, I snicker because of my own thoughts. Ofcourse I am stronger than any witch will ever be, any supreme could ever be. Witches get their magic from light, angels are like light. No witch could ever beat me.

But still, the worries stay where they are. Only when the months turn into years I start to feel comfortable. He calls me mommy, and I love him like my own son. He is a beautiful child, with his blonde hair and blue eyes filled with wonder. I try to keep temptations away from him, try to keep him in the light. And he is kind, despite the way he was brought to this earth, he is kind with the other children, he is kind with the pets I keep. I try to give him a youth as normal as possible. And every night I read him a story and kiss him night. Every night I watch how he falls asleep. Kissing his head, smelling his hair. The love a mother has for a child truly can’t be compared with anything else. I love him like he is my own, and in a way he is.

The house we live in is small, but there are just two of us. Playing with his toys, hugging him when he gives me that special smile. Every time I look at him I get that light feeling of love in my stomach. Every time he comes running to me with another drawing I feel myself drown in the love I have for him. My little angel, my boy wonder. There is no sign of his powers yet, and when they come I will teach him how to use them. He will never know evil, he will never know pain.

It is when he is two and a half years old he makes his first kill. I trusted him enough to behave, trusted the good in him enough to not make a mess. But when I come home the nanny is bleeding out on the carpet, and Michael is covered in blood. It’s only one mistake, one moment of losing control. We need to move out, I realize. Sooner or later they will search for a missing person. But not tonight, tonight I will make sure he still is loved. I lift him up, one hand stroking his back. “Michael, you can’t misbehave like this.” Closing the door to his room behind me, sitting us down on the couch in the living room. “But he wanted to hurt me, mommy.” Watching the worry in his blue eyes, a worry a child does not deserve to have. “No one will ever hurt you, my sweet baby.” A promise I would never break. I will not let them hurt him. Kissing the top of his head, pulling him closer to my body to hug him. No one will ever hurt him again.

There is knocking on the door, frowning I look at the time. It is not that late, but I did not expect visitors. Michael is sleeping in my arms, I keep my hold on him. Opening the front door, finding three people staring at me. One of the faces is familiar, it tells me enough about the other two. Miriam Mead wears the kind smile I remember from before. “We are here for our new lord and savior.” Raising my brows, watching the people. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” My free hand going to the handle of the door to close it. “Take the baby.” A feet placed in front of the door. The man is storming in, strangling me. The other woman is reaching for Michael, who woke up because of the commotion. He is crying, trying to pull away from the woman. “Mommy, mommy.” The struggle becomes rougher, I try to not let him fall, but still fight the Satanist off. Until I feel the cold of steel against my throat. “Let him go.” Miriam Mead speaks calmly, instead I pull Michael closer to me. “Never.”

The steel slits into my skin, making me lose my grip on Michael. The woman pulls him out of my arms, I try to reach for him, crying hot angry tears. I can’t harm humans, I am not allowed to kill, and I never wished to do so before. But in this moment I wish I could kill them all, burn them to ashes, and make them bleed. Boil their blood and rip their hearts out. “Michael.” I cry, feeling the knife leave my skin, cutting through veins. Dying, I reach out for him. His cries for me are the last thing I will hear, his arms stretched out for me. I am dead before my body drops to the floor.

 iv – Lover

Gasps are escaping me, my arms folded together as if I am still holding him. Tears staining my pillow, my sobs filling up the room. I want to scream, I can still hear his voice screaming for me. Mommy, mommy, I can’t seem to stop my crying, it’s getting harder to breathe. I don’t even know where I am, and frankly I don’t really care either. It probably will be another failure, be another way to love and lose him. And I cry out for all the ways I miss him, and I cry for the ways they had hurt him. Ugly sobs, my skin having a red color. A hopeless feeling in my stomach, I will never save him, I will never see him again. All he will be is a memory in my head, and I am so afraid that with time I will also forget the memory of him.

Clutching my stomach, the tears don’t really stop. It feels like I just lost the love of my life. And in a certain way I did. Being his sister, being his friend and being his mother. All the ways I had loved him, and all the ways I would always love all these versions of him. Never knowing what the next one will be like. I will never forget, never forget the way he died in my arms, never forget how they took him away from me. My love lost, my best friend gone forever. Slowly my crying stops, finally I start to take in my surroundings. Slowly I rise up, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. It is not a familiar room, I am not really sure how I got here. There is something dark, an evil force in the sheets. Letting my feet touch the ground, the outline of the door is visible in the dark. There is light on the other side. The hallway is quit spacious. Crosses are hanging upside down on the walls. I know where I am, I must be in the home of a Satanist.

I hear the sounds of cooking coming from what I presume is the kitchen. “Ah, you’re awake.” An older woman is baking eggs, her face wearing a kind expression. “I am not really sure how I got here…” I confide, watching her expression closely. “You were pretty beat up last night, but I always help a fellow believer out.” I try my best to not burst out in laughter. Fellow believer, she couldn’t be any further from the truth than that. “I am glad you did.” It seems like I always ended up in the right place. “Are you feeling well enough to go to a service?” I nod, looking down at the clothing I am wearing. “Not clothed like this though. Let me change first.”

Sitting in the back of the church, being bored. It really does not make sense what the preacher is yelling. As if the devil wanted this kind of evil. Watching him come in almost breaks my heart all over again. Almost makes me want to cry again. But I don’t, I just watch him sit next to me. The smell of desperation clinging to his body, a little bit madness and a whole lot of sadness in his eyes. I can’t help myself, I need to get closer to him, need to feel him near. “Are you okay?” I don’t reach out for him yet, but I desperately want to touch him. “Why do you care?” His eyes are wet with tears, dirt all over his face. “Not all people are monsters.” I just reply. I pass him the money basket. “I don’t have money at the moment.” This makes the woman next to me interfere. I let them speak, watching his face closely. The way he says “That really would be nice,” makes me reach out to him. Taking hold of his hand, sadness in my touch. He does accept my touch, does not pull away. And I keep on watching him, not believing it had been this easy to find him again. This time around I will succeed, this time around we will both live.

“Don’t worry about it, I can get us some food.” Michael is in the shower, washing away his dirt and sadness. “Do you even have the money, sweet child?” She takes my hand, concern in her eyes. “Yes, please let me repay you, and I think it will be good for him to talk about what happened. I think we went through something similar recently.” She let’s go of my hand, taking a sip from her coffee. “Don’t get in trouble again.” I smile knowingly. “I won’t.”

She must think we both are drug addicts or something. Good, let her believe there is nothing special about us, let her believe he is just a boy lost in the world.

“You look familiar.” He tells me, eating the food I bought us. I feel myself freezing, how could he recognize me? We have never met before in this timeline, and he shouldn’t remember the other timelines. “I guess I just have one of those faces.” Casually I reach out for his plate, stealing a piece of chicken with my fork. “No, you don’t. You know me, and I have known you.” His blue eyes are narrowing, he does not trust me. He knows I am lying. I take my time to answer him, slowly chewing the food I stole from his plate. “But you don’t remember me.” I finally say, after swallowing my food. He shakes his head, ticking my fork away with his own fork when I try to steal some more chicken from his plate. “But I wish I did. You feel important, I just know it.” He looks confused, more talking to himself than to me. I wonder, did I went back to many times? Did I go too far? Did my growing dislike for the human race spoil my powers? “Maybe we can make new memories.” I tell him, hoping he will take my offer. “Will you tell me the old ones?” He finishes his plate, reaching for the water. And I smile, if this time around will be different maybe I can tell him. “In time.”

Pressed together in a bed that is made for one. Telling him small stories of the life I had lived with him. How he always had stolen my favorite candy, when we lived as brother and sister. How he always seemed to cheer me up when I was sad. And how he only fell asleep when I told him at least two stories. And it feels good, talking about the three people I loved in such different ways. My nose brushing against his, his laughter feeding my hunger for being happy. “I must have really loved you.” He says then, his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “You did, and I loved you.” And I already love this version of him, already love the way he makes me feel. “Maybe we can love each other again.” And after his words he kisses me. Gentle at first, testing the feeling of kissing. And I never kissed him like this before, only kissing him on is cheek, forehead and hands. But it does feel good, having him this close. Tasting him on my tongue, it does not feel weird. And when the kissing turns more passionate, everything gentle gone, all I think about is that maybe this time it will be finally okay.

Maybe this can last forever, hidden away from the world, together buried in sheets in a bed too small for the two of us. Maybe we can make the world our home, living everywhere and nowhere. Travel every place that there is to see, maybe we can both find the light in humans again. In their kindness, in their art and in their love. Maybe the world can be light again, maybe we can see again why humans deserve to live.

And I tell him he does not need the church, does not need to replace his mother figure. He has me, and I have him. And for now it might not feel enough, but it will be enough in time.

Kissing him everywhere, a hunger for more. Living life everywhere and nowhere, keeping away from witches and warlocks, Satanists and believers. Carrying the weight of the past on our shoulders, only the kisses making it better. And if the end of the world will ever come, it won’t be because of him. I will love him for eternity, love him in heaven and love him in hell.

But humans are stupid, there will always be violence in their bones. The tension unbearable after another terrorist attack, the world burning away in tears and blood. There is blood everywhere, the breaking sounds of their hearts almost audible. Everywhere I look I see people torn away from each other. Their prayers almost driving me insane. Burning is all I do, his words not cooling me down. And when the bombs fall, and even breathing gets toxic I realize I underestimated the time it would take for Michael to gain his powers. His skin burning away from the heat, my name in the sounds of whimpers coming out of his mouth. Tears burning into my skin, I hold his hand till the end. Till everything we see is fire, and I can’t really die, but he can. And for the first time I don’t feel angry or sad as he dies in my arms. I should have expected this, should have known it would be another failure. Closing my eyes, finally ready to give up. And I go back, once again, my body burning away on his. At least this time we lived a little before dying.

 v – Savior

Numbness taking over, being in the place where it all once started. I am back to the beginning. Wearing a purple dress, trapped in a cortex of boringness. I wonder if it makes any sense to try again, maybe the world was supposed to end. Maybe I am only here to stop the witches from destroying the Antichrist. Must I wait another eighteen months for his arrival, or has faith been kind and is he already here?

I woke up as if nothing had happened, all my sense of time once again gone. It always is a surprise where my powers send me, and I grew rather tired of them. They are no help at all, only bringing me pain and loss. I can’t defend myself, can’t defend him, they’re kind of useless.

I let it all pass by, the days and the people. The humans around me nothing but annoying flies. I don’t want their presence, I don’t want their pity. I lost all the light. Feeling numb to the world, I can’t cry, I can’t be angry, I even don’t feel happiness, the only thing I feel is the feeling of failure. And when he gets to the outpost, I don’t even react. All I see when I look at him is another way to love and lose him.

I am so tired, too tired to try to talk to him, too tired to try to save the world. I fall asleep fantasying about all the lives we could have had, hoping for dreams that will help me escape from reality. And when I wake up again he is in my room. His sobs filling up the room, tears covering his cheeks. He sits at the end of my bed, watching me watch him. “Mr. Langdon, what are you doing here?” I try to sound polite, as if the situation is weird to me, as if I don’t feel as hopeless as his crying felt.  “I remember it all.”  

Sitting up, finally feeling a spark of hope in my chest. “What do you mean?” He climbs his way up on the bed, his body hovering over mine. “All the ways you loved me, and all the ways I ever loved you.” And he holds me and I hold him. Clinging to his body, crying tears of joy and disbelieve. We lay like that for a while, holding nothing but each other.

“What are you? You’re not a witch, but you’re also not like me.” Sitting in Venable her office, knees pushed against each other. “I am everything you are not.” A grin spreading on my face, loving these little ways to tease him. “And that is?” Curiosity in his eyes, his hands touching my knees. “I am either in a renaissance painting or a pet name.” He seems to think for a while, and then it finally snaps. Letting himself fall back in his chair, a laugh escaping him. “No way! Do you have wings?” Despite myself I also laugh. “Do I look like a bird to you?” I stand up and sit myself down on his lap. Taking his head in my hands, bowing down to kiss him. And when we need to stop the kissing to breathe, he looks at me. A smile on his face. “Will you at least take me for a flight, bird girl?” Hitting him not too hard, a genuine laugh escaping me. It almost surprises me, for it had been so long that I truly felt happy.

“Do you want to save them, save the world?” Lying in his bed, body pressed against body. I shake my head. “The only one who ever needed saving was you, and here I am.” My faith in humanity long gone, all I ever need is him. Choosing the black over the white, fire over water. And I’ll burn forever, all that makes me holy gone forever. Drowning in a black ocean, my body that surfaces washed away from all the rules that once bounded me.

Black lighting, burning kisses. Rough touches, salt in open wounds. Toxic rain wetting my skin, his hand in mine.

Burning the outpost and his residents to ashes, walking away from the fire. The two of us disappearing in the dying world.

Maybe I never needed to save him after all, maybe he had been my savior all along.

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It was quit a heavy ride to write this. I've been reading the hunger games again so I was in a big mood for angst. But as always I needed kind of a happy ending. Mostly I would write an end where the world was saved etc, but not with this one. A bittersweet one it is.